Duress
by Gryffindorian2014
Summary: With fate's funny ways, Hermione and Tom are forced to confront each other once more. With a past as volatile as themselves and a relationship nothing short of mercurial, they come to terms with their decisions and regrets. But nothing is at it seems when these two are concerned. Smut. One-Shot.


**Disclaimer** : **This fanfiction is written for entertainment purposes only and no monetary gain is being made off it. Any violation of trademark and copyright infringement is purely co-incidental and unintentional. The rights belong to its respective owner(s) and nothing substantial is being gained from this venture.**

 **A/N** **: I was introduced to the world of fanfiction through Tomione fics. I really can't recall why I even wanted to look this ship up, but I did and was immediately swept into this wonderful, wonderful world. Even though I primarily ship Dramione, there are a couple of fics in the Tomione ship which simply blew my mind and as a result I secretly shipped them too. Of course, in a Tomione, the dynamics are massively altered and to be honest, this is the one ship I prefer to read when set in AU's.**

 **This one-shot is a tribute to this amazing ship and for those few who really appreciate the intricacies of the imagination behind them.**

 **Warnings** **: AU, like totally.  
A slightly remorseful (OoC) Tom (he doesn't have any Horcrux in this universe and has plans to overthrow Grindelwald). He also has a special spot for Hermione (Obvio).  
I would suggest anyone who can't stomach this ship to kindly **_**fuck off**_ **and not ruin** _ **our**_ **party.  
Also stay away if you don't like reading smut. (Oh come on! All of us know that the non-smut-readers are endangered species ;))  
Oh, and Tom might come across as OoC purely because of the plot and the vastly different situations.**

 **If for nothing read for the smut.**

 **Timeline** **: 1890s, England.**

 **Characters** **: Tom Riddle Jr, Hermione Granger.**

 **POV:** **Hermione, third person omniscient.**

 **Summary** : **With fate's funny ways, Hermione and Tom are forced to confront each other once more when they cross paths. With a past as volatile as themselves and a relationship nothing short of mercurial, they come to terms with their decisions and regrets for a possible happy future. But nothing is at it seems when these two are concerned. When things are further put into perspective-more questions are raised than answered, is it really the 'unknown' of fate? And what is the true definition of 'happiness'?**

 **Guys do leave a PM if you'd care enough.**

 **Happy reading lovelies!**

 **Cheerio!**

* * *

 **Duress**

* * *

"What are you doing _here_?" she demanded fiercely, whirling around from the massive wooden shelves contained with books and facing him abruptly.

She'd always felt him before she saw him; as _mad_ as it might have sounded to some.

The very air around him seemed to crackle with magic, malevolent to most, but Hermione knew otherwise.

The heavy oak doors closed behind him with a soft click, shutting them away from the outside world. He made his way inside the warmly lit library. She saw him remove his outdoor cloak with an elegant shrug and leave it to hang by the door, right beside hers. She watched as he walked towards her, dressed completely in black. He appeared like a vortex sucking in the light from the candles that he left flickering in his wake. Like a moth drawn to light, her eyes were reluctant to tear away from his level gaze.

"I was wondering the same, my _dear_ ", came his unperturbed, velvety baritone just a foot from her. Hermione did not fail to notice the undercurrent of malice in his tone.

"Tom" Hermione warned, taking a few steps behind when he halted to a stop too close in front of her.

Tom Riddle studied her with mock interest and raised an amused eyebrow at her feeble warning. Ignoring her defensive stance he closed the distance between them and cornered her to the shelves. Hermione momentarily lost track of her thoughts and simply stared at his symmetrical beauty. She had forgotten just how much of an effect he used to have on her, and being in his proximity once again, despite the situation, unwittingly released the memories she had kept buried. For a moment she though he would kiss her and felt her cheeks flush.

"You are mistaken if you think you can intimidate me, Tom." She spat, feeling anything but confident.

 _If only he wasn't so damned perfect!_

The spell was broken the instant his delicately sculpted lips widened into an ugly smirk. _Yes_. She thought. _Now we're dealing with the real Tom Riddle_.

"You will have to forgive my insolence, but it isn't very often that you are seen in this part of town" he said with a pout, leaning in towards her. His voice was almost accusatory and if Hermione hadn't been any wiser she would've thought he had missed her.

 _Tom Riddle never misses anyone; and most definitely not you. Everything in his world of perception exists to serve only as a means to an end._

When she didn't answer, he continued, his breath warming her face and stirring the hair that came loose from her chignon. "Why, Hermione, you wound me."

 _Right_ , she thought sarcastically.

"What are you doing here, Tom? She repeated, raising her eyes to meet his; they were just like she remembered, a curious cross between the deepest blue and the deepest green-almost black, and endless. Eyes that never failed to steal her breath away.

All of a sudden she was transported to that long summer evening by the black lake when they had engaged in an intense discussion on critical theories of Arithmancy and the existence of Hallows and how she had ended up pinned beneath him, lost in his languid kisses.

 _It had been too long ago..._

Her gaze, of its accord, dropped to his lips. And an unchecked and absolutely random thought crossed her mind, searing its image behind her eyes.

 _No one kissed like Tom._

Hermione felt her cheeks flare and she chided herself. She was having none of this. Not today. Too many times, it had been too many times that she had been foolish enough to believe him, to have put faith in him, over and over again. She had fallen prey like numerous other women before her to the infamous charms of Tom Riddle.

Hermione had always prided herself in being a woman who was above such pettiness; namely, being ensnared by the charms of the opposite sex.

She loved her study and worked with a diligence that her contemporaries equally envied and respected. Hermione had been eighteen then. It had taken a mere conversation and a tumbler of wine and she had lost herself in the mystery that was Tom Riddle. His name was entirely too fitting. That summer she had tried, she had lost her heart to the devil himself. She had dared to _love_ and foolishly believed that he returned her emotions.

Those were the exact memories that unnerved her most. She had been nothing but _foolish_.

 _But not today, today she had been entrusted with a mission._

"Tom..." Hermione intoned firmly, "I had assumed we were over such silly little games." She placed a palm on his solid chest and made an effort to push him away, to no avail.

He caught hold of her wrist and pinned it to the shelves behind her, she felt the spines of the ancient books press painfully into the back of her hand. Bringing his other hand to her cheek he swept away the wisps of her wayward curls and leaned in closer.

Hermione immediately turned her face away from him and felt his lips caress her ear.

"If memory serves me right, you most definitely were not over such 'games' when you last went down on your knees..." he lowered his voice into a whisper, "...and sucked my cock." his voice was sibilant, wicked.

Hermione felt her face burn with humiliation and raised her flashing brown eyes to meet his dark ones defiantly.

"Don't you dare..." She warned.

A smug look of victory flashed across his face and he leaned away from her. She saw the opportunity and twisted herself free from his grasp.

"Stay away from me!" Hermione shrieked feeling bile rise in her throat.

"Really, Hermione" Tom mocked, "one would think you thoroughly enjoyed our last time together."

"You make me sick, Riddle."

"Talking about manners are we now?"He asked snidely. Hermione chanced a glance at Tom and saw him sigh exaggeratedly, "Rather hypocritical, don't you think?"

"You wanted to make a Horcrux, Tom!" she retorted furiously, "At a cost you clearly are not aware of!"

At this Tom simply smirked, his gaze resting on hers, nonchalant.

 _Did he really not care at all?_

That's when she realized it.

"No...It can't be..."

 _So he did succeed in his attempt._

Dumbledore had been wrong. She couldn't confront him. Not even after all these years of meticulous preparation.

Hermione knew for fact that she detested Tom, she hated everything he embodied. But deep down, she knew that she had long since forgiven him. Forgiven him of having left her on her own, when she'd been at her weakest; try as she might, she could never seem to stop loving him. Frozen outside, the deepest crevices of her heart burned for him, for his touch, his approval. And this simple act of insensibility on his part shattered the carefully constructed ice fortress. It was as if she'd been transported ten years back to that fateful day when she'd found his note.

 _Hermione,  
I'm leaving._

She'd only known it was his note by way of the exquisite and overly familiar penmanship. He hadn't even stopped to say goodbye.

She felt her chest suffocate with the onslaught of her turbulent emotions. The hair that had come loose from her chignon framed her face, obscuring her brimming eyes.

"You were right all along, Tom" she whispered. "I was a fool to have even thought of helping you. I should've let you make the Merlin knows how many bloody Horcruxes and let you go to hell, which you probably have. You are a sick man, Tom. You don't even deserve death."

When she was sure her eyes had dried she looked up into a pair of startlingly deep eyes adorned by furrowed brows.

"Listen to me."

"Why should I? Give me one reason why I should listen to the likes of you!?" She shot back and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. She felt tired, drained.

"Let me go, Tom...please" She looked into his unreadable eyes, now layered with an odd sheen. _Was that regret?_

He smoothed the side of one hand across her cheek "Neither of us had the luxury of time for me to court you properly" he sighed. "I _had_ to go, Hermione."

"You could have left the dark side, Tom, left Grindelwald once and for all." Hermione intoned, exhausted of repeating the same again and again. "The Order had offered you help, Dumbledore had offered to help!"

"That old fool", he spat. "He wanted me out of the way before Grindelwald did."

"Dumbledore was an honourable man; surely he would have understood you."

At this Tom turned on her with disbelief writ large on his face offering a sneer in response. Hermione dropped the subject. It was pointless to talk over what had been unsuccessfully probed into hundreds of times. Besides, she already felt exhausted with having to deal with him. With having to put up a convincing facade that she was oblivious to the effect he had on her...and still did; the very thought of it rattled her to the core.

"Hermione..." he whispered.

He was pleading. He sounded pained. Tired.

"It's been too long, Tom."

Tom studied her profile in the muted light, her curly head bowed and fists clenching and unclenching. He felt his chest twinge tightly.

"Ten years" He added softly.

Hermione looked down resignedly at the books she intended to borrow. The ones that now lay scattered on the floor at her feet.

"Y-you left." She finally said. Her voice, little above a whisper, was flat, betraying the emotion welling up inside her, she shut her eyes.

She turned her head away but he placed his hand beneath her chin and then splayed her cheek with fingers that should have been soft and unworked. Instead, they had calluses like a man unafraid of toiling work.

He placed his palms on the shelves, trapping her between his arms. He smelled of the cool moonlight, like the woodsy, warm pine needles, the kind that had cushioned her that long-ago autumn evening near the lake by her uncle's home in Hogsmeade, where Tom had taken her to the ground and made love to her with his mouth. When she had been too young, too foolish.

"Hermione, please...Tell me this is not what you want."

"I don't believe this is happening."

Tom placed his hands alongside her head, and with her back against the bookshelf, he held her face to his gaze, removed her spectacles and set them behind her. "You don't think me capable of proposing? Or you do not believe any man capable of wanting you?"  
A breath of indignation escaped her lips.

He pulled her against him while one hand slipped to the nape of her neck, not to hold her captive but to angle her head. "Have I become as undeserving as a man to be shunned by you as well?" he bent and kissed her, a breath against her lips, "Hermione?"

He pressed her to the shelves, his kiss breathy, like a hot, humid dawn. The taste and texture of him swept through her. Her own rapid heartbeat melded with his almost as if some unseen force had wrapped them in its palm, and all she was conscious of was the rhythm of his tongue arresting hers, she clung to him because she didn't know what it was she wanted, and he pushed her no further than she was willing to go. Just enough to lay claim to her willingness at least in this.

 _But she could not do this. She had not though this through. Had she?  
Besides, she had to get on with her task._

"Tom..."

"Don't." His breath coming faster, he rested his forehead against hers as if he, too, fought for control.

"Don't turn away..."

Hermione shook her head. Pins had loosened in her hair. "This isn't right..."

"This is as right as it gets between us," he growled, his voice urgent, and then he kissed her again. His lips devouring hers while she kissed back with equal fervour.

Hermione cupped his face with her palms and pulled away from him. When he started leaning into her lips, she promptly shook her head. "No...Not anymore."

"Hermione" Tom started "I lied to you."

Hermione was acutely aware that he was talking about the note. But before her mind could form another coherent thought. Tom stepped into the juncture between her thighs and she nearly cried out. He was as fully aroused as she. A low moan threaded from her throat. He enflamed her with feeling so intense it was almost painful.

Hermione fisted his robes and sank against his chest, his warmth as close to heaven as she had ever remembered being. Tom was surprisingly warm for someone appearing emotionally frozen. She curved her arms around his neck. His hands roamed down her back, cupped her bottom and brought her up hard against his erection. With their lips united, she tasted more than him in her mouth. She tasted lust. Her own. She tore her mouth from his a slid away from his grasp.

Hermione touched a finger to her swollen lips. Confusion beset her. Looking up at him, she felt her chest constrict.

"Hermione..." her name fell from his lips in a typically uncharacteristic, impassioned whisper.

 _She didn't want to need him. Wanting him was dangerous._

"Why did you have to return?" Why did you have to come to London?"

She spun around and practically ran to the door. She'd opened it only an inch before he slammed it shut and magicked the key, twisting it in the lock before vanishing it.

"Don't run from me." His heat lined her back.

"No."

What she was denying, of that Hermione wasn't so sure any more. She pressed her forehead against the oaken panel of the door and fought against the stinging in the back of her eyes. "But we're not ourselves right now. Or we would not be doing this."

Tom braced his hands on either side of her head. "Don't fool yourself", he brushed away invisible dust from her nape with the pad of his thumb. "Foolishness doesn't befit you."

Groaning, she luxuriated in the feel of his chest pressed against her back. One strong forearm that snaked beneath her breasts, held her to him. His erection was hard against the swell of her behind.

"I'm going to fuck you, Hermione" he murmured, coaxing her head to a side, his voice was a rasp against the corner of her mouth. It was amazing how Tom could make dirty words sound so erotic. Hermione would never admit it aloud but she surely had a deep penchant for his sinful ministrations. Hermione felt the heel of his other hand press against her centre. "Tell me what you want." He splayed his other hand across her jaw and into her unruly hair. "Tell me, Hermione." He breathed.

With her cheek against his shoulder and the other moist with his breath, Hermione turned her head. Lifting her chin, she sought his lips. "Tom..." she murmured his name as she opened her mouth to receive his insistent tongue.

With predatory intensity, he'd eroded the certainty of her feelings, scraped at the heart of her emotions, made her forget his ruthlessness and the past. He made her forget everything but this.

Beneath her bodice, Hermione felt her breasts grow heavy and her nipples harden with anticipation. Her head spun; his taste was like an intoxicating shot of firewhiskey consumed in a rush, warmer and more invigorating with each draught she stole from the tumbler.

She sighed heavily into his mouth, feeling his hands knead her flesh through her clothes. Eager to feel, she took hold of his hand and pressed it to her breasts. Hermione heard a soft growl rumble in his chest and felt his breath come faster, heavier.

Even through her skirts his touch burned and excited her in every sinful way possible. She plundered his mouth, burning for his touch, no longer feeling submissive but assertive in her own needs as well.

She was on fire, ravaged by heat, lost in her sensuality. And with her back still pressed against his chest she raised her arm and curled it around his nape, pulling his mouth harder against hers. Need drove to press her against his erection.

Tom drew breath through clenched teeth. Then he was no longer kissing her. If one of his arms had not been holding her pressed against his chest, she would have collapsed to the floor in a puddle of muslin.

He turned her roughly and pinned her hands against the door. Their moist breaths came in gasps.

Hermione heard her wand clatter to the floor. But she was too far gone to care about anything but this. She looked on, hypnotized by his endless eyes.

It had been forever since she had allowed herself the freedom to feel this way, to let everything go as if tomorrow didn't matter.

His eyes dark and intense, he lowered his mouth to hers. "Tell me, Hermione" he warned in a rasp against her lips. "And I'll not be stopped."

"Don't stop." Her lips brushed the shell of his ear then his lips again. "Don't..." she found that she no longer cared about tomorrow or the consequences of this moment. "...stop."

The darkening of his eyes and his breath of approval was a vibration against her cheek.  
"Then tell me, love"

Hermione's heart fluttered at the endearment. She knew she'd be a fool if she denied him any longer in any way and it was physically impossible to do so and she knew that Tom was aware this too. He was probably taking advantage of her state of vulnerability. But Hermione found that it hardly mattered.

His hands moved beneath her skirts, eased up her thighs and past her silk garters. She watched breathlessly as he raised her skirts and found the moist slit in her underwear. She felt heavy, weighted between her legs. Hot. Alive. He pressed two long, pale fingers through her moist curls, arousing a feeling so intense she barely caught her voice against crying out loud.

 _One last time, one last time with him,_ she told herself _. Then it'll be over. All of the pain and all of this senseless agony; All of it will be over when the mission's complete._

Her heart quivered as she brought her mouth to his ear, her breath hot and panting. She felt a tremor run down his body and couldn't help but feel smug. Tom wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

"I want you to...fuck me," she finally said, voicing her own desires that had been suppressed for only too long. "I want you to fuck me hard against this shelf so that I have something to compare to all my future lovers." she said in a rush, her tongue darting out to lick his ear. "Will you do that, Tom?"

His body stilled, his breath came in pants. Hermione knew she had shocked him. In the only year they'd been together, talking dirty was one thing she still was uncomfortable doing. Until now.

When he pulled away, she saw the dark lust in his eyes and for a moment she was afraid. Afraid of the awareness of the violence they were capable of. When she mentioned future lovers, he snarled.

"I'll make sure no one can satisfy you after this, witch."

His finger slipped into her slick depth, then another. She shut her eyes and let a loud moan escape her lips. Hermione felt her muscles clench around his digits and she gripped his shoulders hard. She felt his fingers move into her, building up a steady rhythm.

"You belong to me. I'll make sure you never forget that."

The darkness in his promise made her womb clench and she felt her hot essence soak his hand. His callused thumb worked her tiny bundle of nerves roughly, further alleviating the intense pressure.

She felt the familiar heat coiling in the pit of her belly, her entire being tingling in heightened anticipation as he added a second finger into her. She was on a cliff, on the verge of falling off, only needing a little push, when he withdrew from her depths. Hermione groaned.

Tom was watching her with rapt attention. As if he was curiously awaiting the result of an invention, his eyes hot with a passion she never knew she had missed seeing.

At that precise moment he brought her clit in between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed.

Hermione did nothing to try and stop the scream of pleasure that threaded from her throat as waves of incredible pleasure washed over her conscious being.

A slow, sensual smile graced his perfectly sculpted lips as he brought his hand up, glistening with her fluids and locked eyes with her. Hermione felt a fresh wave of arousal hit her when the tip of his tongue touched his fingertips and proceeded to lick them clean.

Her mouth went dry as she watched him tasting her essence and she was instantly aroused. Her lower abdomen clenched, yearning for his length to fill her, to make her whole.

"Delicious" he murmured.

Releasing her from the prison of his hands until one found purchase at the nape of her neck; He held her still and proceeded to kiss her ravenously. She tasted herself in his mouth, mewling in pleasure as he ground his erection against hers. His other hand made quick work of his zipper aided by Hermione's clumsy attempts and she broke free hastily to free his length from its confinement.

His hard length sprung free and the bulbous tip came to rest at her drenched slit. She gasped when she felt him rub along the seam, coating his cock in her fluids.

Two pairs of eyes met in a heated embrace.

Then, without warning, Tom pushed to bury himself into her to the hilt, catching her weight against the door. Their breathing turned laboured and neither looked away for the other's searing gaze.

Hermione heaved, her mouth inches from his. His height caused his breath to warm the upper portion of her face unbearably. She felt every ridge of his organ lodged deep into her.

Tiny tremors started at the place they were so intimately connected, spreading all over her body, renewing her arousal. The fact that they were fully dressed turned her on even more.

His member, burning and heavy, pressed into her, filling her with an unrelenting pressure that stole her breath. He withdrew, gripped her bottom with one hand and lifted her higher onto him, impaling her fully. He pushed as deep as he could go. And stopped.

"Hermione..." he uttered from deep in his throat.

Her thighs close around his hips. With her back pressed against the door, he braced one hand next to her shoulder and thrust again, driving deeper. His body rocked against hers. Slowly at first as if savouring the pleasure of their rhythm. The sinews of his arms moved underneath her palms.

Her lips parted. She heard her own soft moan and opened her eyes.

Tom was watching her, his eyes heavy-lidded and black in the shadows just beyond the light.

She felt branded by his possession, and wanted to brand him in return. His breath grew more ragged with each thrust of his hips.

"Come to me, Hermione." He spoke low and close, nudging her thighs wider, brushing his lips across hers. With each rocking thrust, blood rushed to her centre and pulsed like a heartbeat.  
"Come to me now."

"Yes..." her panting breath steamed against his lips.

She wanted only to feel more. Every nerve ending seared her. Fire spread across her flesh.

The tension between her legs intensified. Her fingers entangled in his hair and she couldn't stop a sobbing outcry.

"Yes."

Hermione's world turned upside down; her body exploded as liquid bliss erupted from hr core. Her muscles squeezed him impossibly, drawing out his own orgasm, causing him to convulse violently into her depths. She clung to him as his thrusts grew erratic, prolonging her own bliss.

His lips pulled and suckled. His tongue probed her mouth deeply, making love to it as he did to her body. Helpless in her release she pulled him into another soul-searing kiss and rode the currents of pleasure, arching her back as she came undone with the force of one blissful wave after wracking wave crashing on sand.

His grasp tightened on her hips and he held her down on his length, his guttural groan muffled against the naked curve of her shoulder where her robe fell open.

Hermione felt the shudder of his breath against her ear, and a white-hot rush flooding inside her, drenching her. Their breathing rasped in the heated silence.

Even as her mind-numbing, all-consuming pleasure ceased to tiny pulses between her legs, she quietly sucked in air and listened to their united breathing.

Tom's forehead rested against hers. With his penis still heavy and thick inside her, they remained pressed against one another, breathing shallowly.

In the aftermath, neither moved.

"Tom," she called after a long while when both their breathing had returned to normal, gently brushing her thumb to his still flushed cheek. "What is it?"

"I was under duress." He stated as a matter of fact withdrawing from her rather reluctantly. His hand came up to hold her wrist and he breathed moistly into her palm. "Grindelwald was after your life. I couldn't fail."

For a timeless moment, he stared at her in such gentle opposition to his coldness and her racing heart that she stood on her toes and pulled him into a kiss.

"Did you succeed?" she whispered.

"Dumbledore" He bit out bitterly. As if that was explanation enough. Hermione continued looking at him, waiting patiently for a reply.

At length he added.

"I know why you are here, Hermione"

The sudden shift in his demeanour brought her back to reality.

His voice had suddenly taken on a hard edge and the previous passion in his eyes had morphed into something sinister. She felt like she was treading, balanced precariously over a deep precipice.

The coldness in his grip was what threw her off.

 _What was going on?_

"Tom, what are you-"

"Don't" he whispered, his voice stabbed like ice. "Don't pretend to not know."

"Tom-"

She watched as he, in a movement too swift to be noticed, accio-ed her wand into his long fingered grip.

"You're some piece of work. Aren't you Hermione Granger" he spat her name with unrestrained malice. His eyes alight with a fury that could be defined as nothing short of manic. "It's a pity that I'll have to do away with you...for all you are worth, you were an excellent fuck" he whispered, grabbing her chin harshly and drawing her roughly near his mouth.

Hermione felt the disgust in his voice seeping into her blood, turning it into ice. She had never been on the receiving end of his malicious anger. Despite the chill that ran down her spine, her eyes brimmed with tears. Here she was with the most wanted wizard of the wizarding world in a part of town far removed from the local population and utterly defenceless. But her heart clenched, partly due to his unfounded accusations and mostly because of the glaring possibility that he may have never felt the slightest of affections towards her. She felt her chest constrict painfully and the tears fell in hot and fat streams down her cheeks.

 _A wizard whose cock you took in wantonly moments ago and were deluded enough to think he had changed._ A snide voice inside her head reminded her, sanctimoniously.

But she knew, at that moment they were too far away from one another for any kind of bridge to salvage what was left, or the illusion of what was left. She needed to get on with her mission. Now.

Hermione, in a movement completely unexpected by Tom, brought her knee up hard and fast against his groin and followed it with a vicious kick in the shin.

She watched him bent double and grunt in pain, clearly trying to mask the real damage she'd inflicted upon him. His grip loosened and both wands rolled to the floor. Hermione moved swiftly and summoned both wands and almost shrieked in desperation. "Incarcerous!"

Thick ropes appeared out of thin air and tied Tom Riddle's hands to his body in a vice like grip.

 _I know why you are here, Hermione.  
_ Did he know? How could he? It was simply absurd! Her mission was an exclusive issue kept strictly between herself and Dumbledore. Even Harry Potter had no clue. Then how did-

"Dumbledore..." she whispered, her warm brown eyes widening to epic proportions as her head reeled with the realization. Hermione gripped the edge of a long reading table.

How could she have _not_ noticed before?  
Grindelwald and Dumbledore were rumoured to be involved, after all.

She looked up at Tom, his teeth gritted with the pain she caused him before. His eyes scrunched furiously towards her.

She felt guilt wash over her like waves of acid.

"I'm so sorry, Tom...so sorry" she kept chanting, flinging herself at him, she put her arms around his neck and wept copiously.

"It w-was Dumbledore, h-he warned me against you." She sobbed between words.

She watched his eyes, that mere moments ago contained unadulterated hatred directed at her, widen slightly as a similar realisation dawned on him.

"No."

He said, more to himself than to her.

"Yes" Hermione confirmed, vanishing his bindings and feeling him somewhat slump against her as his arms came around her in a tight embrace. His face nestled deep in the crook of her neck.

However wrong Dumbledore might have been in estimating Tom and what they shared. He had been painfully on spot with one thing: this had to end. And no one but she could end it. Once and for all, he'd said.

"Please forgive me, there is no other way."

Hermione whispered into his neck, his scent heavy in her senses. She felt his body stiffen when the tip of her wand touched his heart. The tears that streamed from her eyes refused to let up.

"Avada Kedavra"

She felt his weight pushing her down to the floor and relented, holding his head to her chest, his body half atop her, his legs bent at odd angles.

It was all over in a heartbeat.

 _This_. This was her punishment; the guilt that would scar her soul for eternities to come.

She harboured no regret over what she had had to do. No, in a way she had freed him. But she did not like the circumstances in which she had performed.

Hermione gazed at Tom's form lying still in her arms, his lips were still warm. His dark hair mussed over his closed lids and his thick lashes curled perfectly. He looked even more beautiful in death. Like an ageless specimen of refined sculpturing.

He looked so peaceful.  
So _free_.

Hermione felt that he would awake any moment and that she would once again get lost in his embrace and let the world fade into oblivion for a while. She wondered what true freedom would feel like.

 _I love you._

Words which he would never hear, she wondered how he would have reacted. Whether he'd be amused or whether he'd kiss her with the same abandon with which he had kissed her tonight.

It was then she knew what she needed to do.

She leaned her face into his and kissed the remaining warmth of his lips. His scent filled her nostrils and she inhaled deeply, committing him to what would be her final memory. Hermione let out a long suffering sigh of finality, filled with a sense of an ending and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

Her last memory was that of the feeling of her wand pressing into her chest.

* * *

 **It turned out a bit cheesy. I guess.  
God, does this read as lame as it does when I read it?**

 **And I couldn't add too much depth. had no clue how to go about it. because - no plot, only smut.**

 **Sorry guys, this was my first attempt at this ship, considering it was OoC and all...and I really had no plot in mind apart from the smut and had to force the story to make some sense. I'll try harder next time.**

 **Tell me what you think, though.**

 **P.S. I love Dumbledore. but he is a manipulative man.**

 **And if anyone has any kind of queries regarding the conspiracy in the story, feel free to PM!**

 **(Makes puppy eyes.)**


End file.
